


Proof

by SoDoRoses (FairyChess)



Series: LAOFT Extras [17]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Abusive Deceit Sanders, Bell has all the tact of a hornet on LSD, Explicit Language, Gen, Implied Slut Shaming, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Jealousy, Knife fighting, M/M, Past Abuse, Possessive Behavior, Scars, Scars from blades, Stabbing, Violence by Proxy, scars from burns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 05:21:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19166635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyChess/pseuds/SoDoRoses
Summary: Roman acquired a lot of scars over the past couple years.The thing is… he’s not the only one.Or,The reason Roman hasn’t spoken to Bell in months.Part of theLove and Other FairytalesVerse





	Proof

**Author's Note:**

> from this prompt from anon on tumblr:
> 
> "LAOFT idea where Roman reveals his inner pain and mental scars from his time with the serpent king"
> 
> combined with this question from @centrumlumina, also from tumblr:
> 
> “So… did Roman have to do a difficult task to “prove himself worthy” of being Durant’s knight? What was it?”
> 
> someone Hug Him (spoilers, they do)

Patton found out by accident.

It had been very hot, and Bell hadn’t been wearing very much clothing, just white pants and sort of large scarf she’d wrapped around her chest and shoulders. Her arms were completely exposed as she juggled several silver knives. She caught the last with a flourish and Patton clapped enthusiastically. Beside him, White did the same, if a bit more subdued.

“You must have practiced a lot to be so good at that,” said Patton brightly.

“Eh, it’s not so hard,” said Bell, “I’d teach you, but I’d have four kinds of death after me if got your pretty skin scraped up, Wren,”

She held out her arms, and when she turned them to and fro Patton just barely see dozens of pale nicks across her hands, almost invisible.

Except for one, high up on her bicep, long and wide and strangely shiny.

“How’d you get one all the way up there?” he laughed a little.

Bell went very still.

Patton looked a little closer, a realized it didn’t look like a normal cut at all, actually. It was raised and bumpy, a long furrow with deep sides. It looked… it looked like a  _burn,_  almost, glossy.

Not almost. It  _was_ a burn.

“Um,” said Bell hesitantly.

Patton wasn’t dumb. A long blade wound, that was also a burn, and that looked like it had been cauterized instead of healed properly? It had to have been an iron or steel blade, and no pocket knife did that.

“Oh,” said Patton softly.

“I might not be the best person to have this conversation with, little Wren,” said Bell, “I’m about as subtle as an irate rooster, I’m far more likely to cause a whole mess. Why don’t you ask your prince? Or Sir Roman?”

If Bell knew that she’d as good as answered the question, she didn’t seem to notice. Patton smiled, brittle, and nodded.

“Of course,” he said. Bell gave him a sunny, unconcerned smile, and then pulled another two knives out of her pockets, starting them spinning once more.

After a moment, White leaned over and began to run her fingers through Patton’s hair, pushing gently, until Patton’s head rested on her shoulder on top of her pale, cloud-soft hair.

She might understand he was upset, but she probably didn’t know why. And Patton wasn’t going to talk about Roman behind his back, even if the idea of bringing it up  _to_  Roman and upsetting him – or, worse, causing him to have a  _flashback –_ made Patton shiver with anxiety.

But Roman had seen the absolute worst, most terrifying part of Patton, and he hadn’t flinched. The least Patton could do was return the favor.

* * *

_Roman lay still beside Dee, his eyes closed. He winced occasionally, because Dee was doing that thing where he pressed his thumb on the bruises he’d kissed onto Roman’s neck, but it was a temporary discomfort. Dee always healed them away before Roman left. Hickies were something Day-Roman would definitely notice._

_“Up,” said Dee suddenly, and Roman contained his huff. He sat up across from Dee and smiled pleasantly._

_“Yes, my love?”_

_Dee ran his thumb along Roman’s jaw, before gripping his chin and tilting his face up, smiling in a distinctly self-satisfied way._

_“I think,” he said, “That I am going to make you my knight,”_

_Roman blinked dumbly._

_“You can do that?” he blurted before he could stop himself._

_Dee laughed._

_“I think you’ll find I can do whatever I want,” he said, “But this – yes. I can knight whoever i please,”_

_He smile took on a strange edge._

_“So long as they prove their merit,”_

_There was a long pause – Roman wasn’t sure what that meant, but he was rescued from trying to figure it out by Dee leaning in. He pressed a lingering kiss to one of the fresh bruises on Roman’s throat, before leaning up to Roman’s ear._

_“You want to prove your love to me, don’t you darling?” he murmured._

_“Of course,” said Roman, which was true, but he didn’t mention the niggling lump in his throat that asked, plaintively, why he needed to in the first place. He loved Dee so much – everyone in the court knew it. What could he have done wrong that made Dee think he needed to_ prove _it?_

_“Of course,” Roman repeated, tilting his head up for a kiss, “I would do anything for you, my love,”_

_“That’s what I like to hear,” Dee hummed, dragging Roman close by his hips and rolling on top of him._

_Roman had just a few moments to wonder why Dee hadn’t actually_ explained _what Roman was to do, before he found himself thoroughly and very successfully distracted_

* * *

Virgil knew the whole time. How could he not?

It had taken several weeks for the court to pick up on the fact that talking disparagingly about Roman in earshot of Virgil was a very easy way to invite thousands of spiders upon you while you slept. Sometimes out of earshot as well – Virgil’s sisters were just as fond of his partners as he was, and they didn’t always ask permission.

Virgil put off confronting them publicly as long as he could – the more of them that gave themselves away at the start, the less he’d have to ferret out later. but Hell if it didn’t infuriate him.

Anger yes. But also a new and fresh kind of grief on Roman’s behalf that half made him wish Greta hadn’t been quite so fast in her work.

Because as much as they all hated to discuss it, Roman  _had_  been with Virgil’s brother, openly and for quite a while.

So what must the snake have been saying when Roman wasn’t around (or at the very least, letting other people say), that all these fae thought they could talk about Roman like this with no consequences?

Virgil didn’t want to think about it – he could scarcely think about anything else. He’d sometimes randomly find Patton and hold him as tight as Patton could comfortably bear, trying to restrain himself from just tearing some of them to pieces.

But his mother was only just barely rousing from her sleep, the Seelie no longer bound – Virgil could take one of the fae, even a couple dozen, but he was still outmatched if they all came for him at once, and he couldn’t give that away or they’d all potentially be up to their necks.

So Virgil knew all kinds of things about Roman. Definitely more than Roman probably wanted him to know.

It did help that the Seelie were in control right now, and that they, at least, seemed to regard Virgil with a mixture of wary awe and cautious reverence. Which wasn’t anymore  _comfortable_  for him, but was at least not actively dangerous.

And the Seelie didn’t say much about Roman, really – they were actually much more inclined to talk about Patton, in a way Virgil thought was borderline condescending. It took much longer for him to figure out the reasoning behind that one.

He was walking with Patton, their pinkies linked, Bell trailing behind them looking bored. She didn’t strictly need to stay with Patton when Virgil was around, but she hadn’t seemed to care enough to leave when Virgil had told her so.

Virgil wondered if she was devoting as much attention to cataloging the whispering faces as he was.

“-the prince’s human-”

“why does he have a guard, I thought he was a knight-”

“-no, no, this is the sweet one, that’s the secondhand one-”

Virgil wasn’t used to not being the fastest fae in the room, and he was disinclined to let go of Patton besides – still, he was a little stunned when the words were cut off with a blood-curdling shriek.

Patton yelped, plastering himself against Virgil’s side and breathing heavily. Virgil turned towards the voice, and his eyebrows shot up.

Bell had pinned the fae to the wall, a dagger through his hand. She had a bright, unconcerned smile on her face.

“Sir Roman,” she said, deceptively chipper, “Is not a possession,”

She took her knife back with a sickening squelch, and Patton let out a shaky breath. Virgil cupped the back of his head and turned Patton’s face into Virgil’s own neck, shushing him.

“What are you, his champion?” snapped the fae, cradling their bleeding hand.

“I am his friend,” Bell said, “And the little Wren’s bodyguard. I’m sure your words would have upset him if I had not stopped you,”

Virgil made a note to remind Bell that Patton didn’t have very good hearing, and also that stabbing people was probably much more upsetting to him than petty comments.

The wounded fae scowled, their hand already slowly healing, and then he turned and scurried down the hallway.

The hallway actually emptied  _very_  quickly, and then the three of them were alone. Bell hesitated, then turned to face him.

Rather than angry, she just looked incredibly sheepish.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” she said. She cocked her head at Patton.

“Are you alright?”

Patton gave a totally unconvincing thumbs up.

“You’re right, you really shouldn’t have,” said Virgil dryly, “Do you think I’m not keeping track of them?”

“I’m well aware,” she winced, “Only I-”

She cleared her throat.

“It was the particular phrasing,” she said, “I lost my temper. I’m sorry, your highness, it won’t happen again,”

Virgil pursed his lips.

“Just don’t stab anyone else in front of Patton,” he muttered.

She grinned back.

* * *

_They were deeper in the fairy hill than Roman had ever been, and the halls were dead besides. He hadn’t seen another soul for several turns and he was beginning to feel just a bit apprehensive._

_Dee had his hand across the back of Roman’s neck, alternating between squeezing and slipping through the hairs at Roman’s nape gently. It was distracting, so Roman started when they finally came around the last corner into an enormous room._

_It was round, and dozens of fae were scattered around the edges. The floor was smooth, flat stone, and the center of it stood Bell, smiling brightly and chatting across the empty space with some fae on the edge. She caught sight of Roman and Dee, and she waved. Roman waved back. He wasn’t sure, but it seemed there was something just slightly off about her expression._

“ _What’s Bell doing?” said Roman curiously._

_Dee hands spasmed on Roman’s neck, a flash of just-barely-uncomfortable before relaxing._

“ _She is part of your test of merit,” said Dee, his voice entirely even._

“ _Huh. I didn’t realize I was allowed to have help,” said Roman._

_Dee snorted, and Roman looked at him questioningly._

“ _Belladonna is not helping you with your test of merit,” laughed Dee. He flicked the iron dagger at Roman’s hip._

“ _She_ is _your test of merit,”_

_Roman eyes flitted warily between Dee next to him and Bell in the middle of the room, both of them smiling. Dee’s looked delighted, and there was still some strange edge to Bell’s._

“ _I don’t understand, darling,” Roman said quietly._

_Dee’s smile stretched even wider._

“ _Why, you’re going to fight her, of course,”_

* * *

Logan knew because he asked. He was not always good at understanding when a subject should not be brought up. And if he had known, he might have done so anyway. Willfully ignoring all of their problems was a habit all of them needed to break.

“Roman? Are you awake?”

“No,” came a gruff response.

Logan rolled over in Roman’s arms to face him.

When the full moon fell on a weekend, Roman and Logan often spent the next morning together, catching up on sleep at one of their houses. Today they were at Roman’s, in a sleepily-constructed blanket-fort on the floor of his living room, tucked snugly between the bases of the off-color, mismatched furniture.

“I have a query,”

“And I’m not awake, Specs,” said Roman, even as he shuffled slightly so they were face to face and leaned in to nuzzle their noses together. He pressed a sleepy kiss to Logan’s cheek and then leaned back, covering his mouth to yawn.

“What’s your question, love?” he said faintly. His eyes were still clothed.

Logan hesitated. He considered his phrasing, feeling much more unsure all of a sudden.

“It has been many months since our… ordeal,” said Logan, “We have attended five revels under Virgil’s rule,”

Roman nodded, eyes still closed but his brow pinched in confusion.

“Yeah, we have,” he said, “What’s your point?”

Logan bit the inside of his cheek, just barely.

“That night,” said Logan, “The knight Belladonna indicated she was your friend,”

Roman went rigid as stone.

“And yet you have not spoken to her once since then, as far as I have seen,” said Logan gently.

Roman didn’t move an inch, or respond.

“Did something happen?” said Logan. His voice was quiet, but Roman still flinched.

“… we’re not friends,” said Roman weakly.

“You don’t sound convinced of the truth of your statement,” said Logan.

Roman laughed, humorless and cold.

“Oh, she’s  _my_  friend,” said Roman, “But I’m certainly not hers. Or if I am, I’m a spectacularly bad one,”

“You are not a bad friend,” said Logan automatically.

“I almost killed her,” said Roman flatly.

Logan’s mouth shut with an audible click.

“I was  _going_  to kill her,” croaked Roman, “If he told me to. He-”

Roman’s voice cut off, ragged, and Logan suddenly regretted bringing this up very much.

“He didn’t like her,” said Roman, “He was jealous, I think, because we were friends, and- you know, never mind that Bell and I are both gay, Bell longer than the word ‘lesbian’s’ existed, he just-”

Roman’s arms had tightened around Logan, almost uncomfortable, but Logan shuffled closer, encouraging him.

“And I hurt her, and I would have done a lot worse, because he told me to, and I was too much of a coward to say no,” said Roman wetly, “I really don’t think you can get more ‘bad friend’ than that,”

“You are  _not_  a coward,” said Logan firmly, “And you wouldn’t have killed her,”

“You don’t know that,” said Roman, “I don’t even know that,”

“Aren’t you always telling me I know everything?”

“I’m being serious,”

“I am obviously being serious. I wear a necktie,”

“You’re not  _currently_  wearing a necktie,” said Roman, his voice thick and sounding somewhere between exasperated and besotted.

“It can be safely assumed that I am always wearing a metaphorical necktie, as I am always serious,”

Roman broke, snickering into Logan’s hair, and Logan couldn’t help his responding smile. He pressed his face into Roman’s neck and ran one hand up his warm side.

“I think,” said Logan, “That you should talk to Belladonna,”

Roman was quiet for so long, still, and his breathing even, that Logan thought he might have fallen asleep. And then Roman gave a shaky inhale, and nodded.

“Okay,” he said, “Yeah. Okay,”

* * *

_Roman had fought dozens of fae, maybe hundreds. He’d won every time, or at least held his own long enough to flee. This shouldn’t be any different._

_It was. It was so different. This wasn’t a crybaby that had been drowning people, or a red-cap kidnapping tourists, or a night-hag eating people’s pets. This was Bell, who had a familiar face and voice and was his_ friend _._

_Bell didn’t seem to share his hesitance – she took advantage of his distraction and hooked one foot around his ankle, sweeping his leg. He stumbled, but he righted himself before he’d actually fallen, just barely twisting out of the downswing of Bell’s knife._

_She didn’t let up, and Roman had to scramble to catch the next one with the hilt of his own dagger. Bell was very close._

“ _Try harder,” she hissed, very quietly, “He’ll never be satisfied at this rate,”_

_Roman didn’t have time to express his confusion before Bell twisted her hands and Roman lost his footing again, her blade coming down on his arm. He dodged, but only barely, and a thin red line welled up on his skin._

_That was first blood. He’d lost._

_He looked up, waiting for Dee to call them off. But Dee didn’t say anything, just kept looking at him expectantly._

_He hadn’t actually said it was to first blood, now that Roman was thinking about it. He hadn’t actually said what they were fighting to at_ all.

_Cold dread pooled in Roman’s stomach, and he got another slash for his distraction, this time to the back of his palm. Bell looked equally distraught and exasperated._

_This time she came at him from the side, going for his shoulder, and Roman ducked under her arm. He knocked her hand away with the hilt of his dagger, and just barely managed not to flinched at the faint hiss he heard from where he’d made contact._

_He lunged, and he knew he was outmatched, knew it from the very beginning – that had been the first hit he’d landed on her the whole fight._

_So he was expected her to dodge. Or sweep him. Or move at all._

_But she didn’t._

_The sizzle from where Roman’s knife sank into Bell’s shoulder was nauseating, and the scream she let out even more so. She hit the ground, dropping her knife as she fell, and rolled away from him._

_She was cradling her wounded arm close to her, and Roman could_ smell _the charring from even that far away. He thought he might be sick._

 _He glanced up at Dee, but Dee was still watching, like he was waiting for something. And if_ that _wasn’t enough, then this…_

 _Was this to the_ death?

_Bell hadn’t moved from her spot, either away from Roman or towards her knife. She was shaking._

_Roman took a step forward._

_He didn’t quite remember what happened next – Dee was next to him, suddenly, and someone was leading a bleeding Bell away, and Dee was kissing him and congratulating him and saying just how well he’d done._

_Roman tried to be_ proud _that he’d done well, that he’d proved himself._

_Instead, all he could think about was that one step._

_Because he didn’t know why he’d moved toward Bell. To help her, or finish her off._  

* * *

 

So maybe Roman was a bit of a chicken.

He’d told Logan he’d talk to Bell. And he would. Eventually. When he could look at her across the clearing without feeling like he was going to vomit, maybe.

Or possibly after he’d gone more than two weeks without having a nightmare that the king ordered him to slash her throat and Roman did it without hesitating.  

Or when he could think of something say to her besides “thank you” and “I’m sorry” on repeat because neither of those were even close to enough but somehow Roman wasn’t entirely sure he’d ever come up with words that were.

So at the next revel, maybe he’d stayed with Virgil to the side, and maybe he’d told a not-quite-fib about not feeling well when asked why because, well, he  _didn’t_  feel great.

He probably should have known better.

Roman was twisting a silver ring on Virgil’s finger back and forth, fiddling really. He was trying not to look at Virgil while he did it, because when he’d glanced up a few minutes before and seen Virgil, he’d been watching Roman with an expression so soft it bordered on reverent, and Roman didn’t really think he could handle it directly at the moment.

So he was focused pretty intently on Virgil’s hand, and therefore didn’t notice Patton coming up behind him until he slipped his arms around Roman’s waist from behind.

“Hey, sweetie,”

“Hello, dearest Goldilo-”

Roman turned to face Patton, except Patton was not alone, and Roman probably resembled nothing so much as a deer in headlights.

“This wasn’t my idea,” said Bell, her arms crossed, looking more uncomfortable than Roman had ever seen her.

Roman glared at Patton, and then at Logan just behind Bell. Neither of them flinched.

He turned back to Virgil, who had the most unconvincing innocent expression Roman had ever seen.

“This was cruel,” snapped Bell suddenly, and Roman winced. But when he looked at her, she wasn’t glaring at him – she was glaring at _Patton_.

And, well. That didn’t make any sense at all.

“I’m going,” she said. She turned and for a scant second it looked like Logan might try and bar her way, but he seemed to change his mind at the last second, sighing in defeat.

“Wait,” blurted Roman, and Bell did. She uncrossed her arms to place her hands on her hips.

“I- I’m sorry,” said Roman.

Belladonna’s expression went from irritated to baffled instantly. She stared at him like he’d spontaneously grown wings.

“Why on earth are you apologizing?” she said incredulously.

Roman swallowed, his eyes flitting over where he knew the scar was, and Bell actually laughed.

“Surely you’re joking,” she said, stunned.

Roman was feeling distinctly wrong-footed.

“Do you want  _me_  to apologize?” she said, “I think I’ve landed a fair number of hits on you the past two years,”

“Not like  _that_ ,” said Roman.

“Only because I’d been doing that particular song-and-dance much longer than you,” she said dryly, “Rest assured, I would have run out of ways to avoid it eventually. We were all playthings, Roman, there was nothing any of us could have done,”

“It’s different,” said Roman.

“Why?”

Roman bit the inside of his cheek.

“Because I was-”

Virgil didn’t react or tense up anywhere they were touching, but his body language had become very…  _deliberat_ _ely_  relaxed.

“I should have been able to stop him,” said Roman weakly.

“What, you think because he was fucking you, you had any more say than the rest of us?”

Virgil and Logan snarled as soon as she spoke, and Roman flinched so violently his hands broke out of Virgil’s grasp. There was less than a second where it looked like Virgil was going to reach for him, but he seemed to change his mind. He folded his hands in his lap, his face carefully blank as he clearly tried to get a handle on his temper. Patton looked like he might be about to cry.

And Logan? Logan wasn’t even trying to control his expression – he looked  _furious_.

“This was an ill-conceived venture,” he spat, “You need to leave,”

“Nope,” said Bell, still looking directly at Roman, “I’m serious Roman, do you honestly think he would have listened to you if you said something?”

Roman thought of the – few,  _very_  few – times he’d protested something, and spent the next five seconds trying to focus on not-hyperventilating.

“No, I guess not,” he said woodenly. Bell smiled back.

“Good, we’re on the same page,” she said, “If I’d known you were avoiding me over something as idiotic as  _guilt_  I would have come after you ages ago, _”_

Roman’s brow furrowed.

“Why  _did_  you think I was avoiding you, if not that?”

Bell gestured to revel as a whole.

“This is the some of the only interaction you have with the court anymore,” she said, “And barely. You only talk to these three, and sometimes White. I figured you didn’t want  _anything_  reminding you of your little jaunts into faerieland. Out of sight, out of mind. Didn’t want to stir up all those unpleasant memories we share,”

Roman gave her baffled look.

“Well, now  _you’re_  being stupid,”

Bell made an offended noise.

“You’re the best part of those memories,” said Roman, “You were my first friend in the court and the only one who wasn’t just trying to curry favor with-”

He shook his head, switching tracks.

“You were just nice to me, for no reason, and you never asked for anything unless it was to, what, look at my knife? Barring that one… _incident_ , being around you was about as relaxed as I ever was,”

A strange expression flashed across Belladonna’s face, almost like she was  _touched_ , and then Roman blinked and she had an absolutely shit-eating grin on her face.

She lunged for his head, ruffling his hair so roughly it almost hurt, crowing in delight.

“Aw, you  _like_  me, Pretty Boy, who’d have thought?”

“Oh, get  _off_ me,you _shrew,_ for the love of-”

Roman figured shifting backwards into Virgil’s embrace was probably cheating, but never let it be said he couldn’t be underhanded when it suited him.

Bell did retreat, but she was still grinning.

“Well, now you’ve put me in a wonderful mood,” she said, “Come here, Spring, give me a dance,”

Logan’s expression went from suspicious to alarmed instantaneously, and he sputtered several protests that Bell ignored as she grabbed him and dragged him towards the circle.

Logan cast a pleading look backwards at them, and Patton giggled, waving encouragingly. Roman merely shrugged, amused.

Virgil adjusted his hold on Roman, and they both shifted until Roman’s back was comfortably settled against Virgil’s chest. Patton scooted closer, leaning on them both.

“You missed each other,” said Patton simply. “I’d do it again, but – sorry for meddling,”

Roman watched Bell cackle at Logan’s two left feet, and smiled.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he said.

“I’m really glad you did,”

**Author's Note:**

> im [ tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors ](%E2%80%9Dtulipscomeinallsortsofcolors.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D) over on tumblr and i live for attention


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